


13 Days of Halloween - Haunted Houses

by BleedingInk



Series: Halloween Challenge [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5073334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, Dean and Meg go through a haunted house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	13 Days of Halloween - Haunted Houses

“I am not entirely sure about this,” Castiel muttered under his breath, but none of his partner seemed to hear him, judging by the fact that they kept walking and arguing with each other without answering him. By the time he caught up with them, Meg and Dean’s bickering had bloomed into a full on fight.

“This is stupid, and I don’t understand why we have to waste money on it.”

“You’re not wasting any money, Scrooge McDuck,” Meg replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m inviting you, that’s the whole point!”

“Still, there’s so many fun things we could be doing,” Dean groaned. “Why do we have to go through a place that’s falling apart, just to have people scream into your face and throw blood at you? It’s unsanitary!”

“The blood is fake, you neat freak,” Meg argued. “And we’re doing it because it’s fun. Castiel thinks it’s fun, don’t you, Clarence?”

In typical fashion, they only turned to him when they needed a third opinion to break a draw.

Castiel didn’t mind. Dean and Meg had been dating each other (“If having angry sex after fighting can be called dating,” Meg had stated once, and Dean hadn’t even tried to refute it) long before they met him. And he wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but he had ended up being an essential part of their relationship, if only because they needed him to break up their fights and offer an impartial opinion on whatever issue they were disagreeing on. He didn’t particularly care for the sexual aspect of their relationship (“Asexual? Doesn’t that make you like, a plant?” Dean had asked when he told them, and Meg had punched him in the arm), but he did enjoy cuddling up with them to watch a movie or taking naps together or, like that night, going on dates with the two.

Dean called it a “sort of messed up thing”. Meg didn’t like labels, so she didn’t call it anything. Castiel wasn’t sure they were ready to hear what he called it.

In any case, they were halfway on their way to the haunted house, and if he was going to state his opinion, it was now or never, so cleared his throat.

“I’m not entirely sure about this,” he repeated. “By the reviews I have read, this haunted house in particular can get rather… extreme.”

“Well, yeah,” Meg nodded. “That’s sort of why I picked it.”

“But Cas doesn’t want to go,” Dean pointed out. “So why don’t we just go back to the apartment and watch a movie or…?”

“I didn’t say that,” Castiel interrupted him. “I said this could get rather extreme, so we should ask all the pertinent questions before going in.”

Dean clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed while a smug little smirk appeared on Meg’s lips.

“Sure, fun with protection, isn’t that what you always tell us?” she snickered. “Come on, now, Winchester, you have no excuse. Unless you’re scared?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you know I don’t scare easily,” Dean said, squaring his shoulder and ready to prove how much of a macho guy he was.

Castiel, who was secure in his masculinity enough to admit when he was scared, felt a shiver run down his spine when they approached the house. Just as Dean had predicted, it looked like it was about to fall apart: the windows were broken, the door hanged loose from its hinges. They hadn’t even done anything too extreme, just taken a big house that was more or less already half demolished and painted it black.

A man dressed up in an overall and a straw hat was standing outside the mansion’s gate, and smiled at them when they approached him.

“Good evening,” he greeted them. “You seem like a rather clever group of fellows. Would you be interested in a business proposal?”

“I’m sorry, we’re here to take the haunted house tour,” Castiel replied, matter-of-factly.

“Cas, he is part of the tour,” Dean clarified in a whisper.

Only then Castiel noticed his sickly appearance, a ghost-like paleness and deep dark circles under his eyes. The only way a man could look like that and still be standing and talking firmly was if it was make-up, which Castiel thought he should have realized before.

“Oh, he’s an actor!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I see now. Please, continue.”

The man seemed disconcerted for a second, but he immediately went back into character.

“Say, wouldn’t you be interested?”

“What do we have to do?” Meg asked, obviously catching on faster than Castiel.

“Well, dear dame, you see, Old Man Crowley died in here tonight,” the man explained, making a vague gesture towards the house. “Awful little bastard he was, and a worse boss if you want to hear my opinion. But he was loaded, he was…”

“He keeps messing up slangs,” Castiel complained under his breath. Both Meg and Dean hushed him.

“And you know, right now there’s nobody in the house,” the man kept explaining. “His son has run out to look for the mortician, and me and all the other servants have squirreled out…”

“That’s not even…” Castiel began to protest, but Meg stomped on his foot. She was clearly not interested in the linguistically atrocious mistakes the actor was committing.

“So the house is sitting there, all alone, with nobody to watch over Old Man Crowley’s treasure,” the man kept going. “Like I said, perfect business opportunity for some clever folks such as yourselves.”

“He wants us to rob the house of a dead man?” Castiel asked, frowning.

“That seems tacky,” Dean agreed.

“Oh, I say, I say,” the man nodded. “But it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. You could all become richer for it. This could be a chance for y’all to get what you have always wanted…”

“Alright, and what do we have to do?” Meg asked. She was the only one clearly enjoying the narrative aspect of the adventure.

“Just twenty five bucks each,” the man said. “And I’ll open up the gate for you so you can all get inside and get your hands on some sweet, sweet rewards. He had so many nobody is even going to notice what went missing.”

“And why don’t you go inside yourself?” Castiel asked.

The actor shuffled his feet, in a perfect imitation of awkwardness and embarrassment.

“Well, because people would suspect me, of course,” he said. “I worked for Old Man Crowley for many years, yes, sir, and I can tell you for sure that man had some strange stuff going on inside his brains. But if you manage to get, you’re going to see things you would have never seen before. Just don't go into the basmenet.”

“Wow,” Dean muttered. “The only thing that’s missing from this whole introduction is a big neon sign saying: _‘You’re going to die for being greedy little shits’_.”

Castiel snickered, but turned it into a cough when Meg glared at him.

“We’ll take it,” she said, taking out the bills from inside her jacket. “I hope it’s worth it, though.”

“Oh, it’ll be,” the man said, pushing the gate open for them. “I assure you, it will be.”

The little laugh he let out was unnerving to say the least.

“If that man was the gardener, I must say, he’s done a terrible job,” Castiel commented, as they crossed the yard full of weeds and dried leaves.

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to be scared from the beginning of this thing,” Meg said, sounding disappointed. “The only thing I see here is dirt. Well, I guess for Winchester that must be really creepy.”

“You know what, Masters…?”

They never found out what Dean was going to say, because he followed that up by a really high-pitched scream and a jump that almost make him collapse against Castiel.

It took several seconds for them to recover enough to know what had happened: a mannequin dressed up in a tuxedo had fallen on Dean’s head as they passed by a tree. It had a thick rope around its neck and was now slightly swaying in the wind.

“It caught me by surprise!” Dean protested, with his ears getting pink as Meg burst into laughter. “Come on, it doesn’t even look that real.”

“It looks pretty real,” Castiel admitted. Somebody had gone the extra mile to make sure the mannequins nails looked chewed up and bloody, like he had bitten them practically to the bone. Despite knowing it was latex, the effect was chilling. As a former theater kid, he really appreciated that kind of details.

“Okay,” Meg said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. “I think we should go on now.”

The artistry that had gone into decorating the inside of the house was admirable. It was completely dark when they went in, but as they started getting used to it, he could noticed the old-fashion, half destroyed furniture around and the fake spider webs hanging everywhere. The floor creaked when they stepped inside.

“Well, that’s…” Dean started, probably about to make a smartass comment to recover the dignity he had lost outside, but another sound interrupted him.

A woman was sitting in the stairs, crying with her face hidden in her knees. Castiel really appreciated the way they lit her up so slowly so they would noticed her. Her sobs became progressively louder while the three exchanged looks, trying to decide what to do next.

“I guess it must be where we’re going,” Meg said, pointing at the stairs. She tried to take a step towards her…

… and the woman lunged herself at Meg, her crying becoming a penetrating screech. Something glistened in her hand, and Castiel realized with a jolt that it was a kitchen knife.

The rational part of him told him it had to be a prop. But it looked so real that his first instinct was to grab Meg’s arm and pulled her out of the woman’s way. They stumbled away as the woman stepped into the light so they could appreciate her horribly disfigured face: half of her face was normal, while the other half showed her bare flesh, her eye nothing but a big empty socket. She slashed the air in front of them, moving to strategically block the door, and backing them against a wall. As soon the three were there, the wall made an abrupt spin. Castiel closed his eyes instinctively, and when he opened them again, they were no longer in the house’s lounge. Instead, there was a long, barely lit hall in front of them. Howls of pain echoed around the walls.

It took him a couple of seconds to realize the pain in his arm was because Meg was gripping it with too much force.

“Ouch, ouch!” Dean complained, because apparently Meg was doing to the same to him.

“Sorry,” Meg laughed again, but Castiel could have sworn he heard a note of hysteria in her tone. “That was… that was intense.”

“Sure it was,” Dean said, trying (and failing) to sound indifferent.

“I thought it was pretty scary,” Castiel confessed. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, and he had to make an effort to normalize his breathing. “So… I guess the way out is… through this.”

“Yes. It seems like it.”

They stayed exactly where they were.

“Come on, guys, this is just ridiculous,” Dean protested. He took a step forwards…

A dummy jumped out of the wall. Dean let out another scream before basically retreated to the same exact spot he was.

“Goddammit!”

“Okay,” Castiel said, with his throat dry. “Maybe we should… hold hands through the entire experience.”

“Way ahead of you,” Meg said. She was already holding Castiel’s hand, and she stretched her free one to grab Dean’s as well. Castiel was about to protest about the fact she just assumed they would ahead and behind her to protect her and maybe suggest they should take turns being in the middle. But it was probable that Meg wouldn’t even want to negotiate that, so with a sigh, Castiel stepped forwards.

Later, he wouldn’t remember much about the hallway, except that they were constantly being jumped by people in utter realistic make-up to depict horrible wounds, some of them brandishing weapons like scalpels or axes at them. Castiel figured he might have found the tour more frightening if he hadn’t been so busy noticing things that broke the illusion (like the fact that half of those disfigured monsters smelled far too nicely) and worrying about his partners. Dean would curse out loud what trying to fend them off, while Meg would basically walked far too close to Castiel’s back, laughing nervously and far too loud, and refusing to let go off his hand.

“Come on!” Dean shouted when a guy covered in bloody bandages jumped at them, waving his hands in the air merely inches in front of them. “You’re being paid! I know you’re being paid!”

“Just walk faster, Clarence, I swear to God!”

“What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over those ambient noises,” Castiel said. Then he turned around and shouted: “Tell them congratulations on their skills!”

“Move, Castiel!”

Meg was cutting the circulation of his fingers, and he had no idea there were as many swear words in the English language. He had the impression Dean might have even invented a couple of new ones before they reached the end of the hallway and were greeted by a stairs that lead to the open air outside.

“Finally,” Dean huffed.

Castiel was half expecting the stairs to fall apart or start shaking as they climbed it, but nothing happened. Soon they found themselves breathing in the cold air of the autumn night outside, blinking under the streetlamp’s light right ahead.

“Well, that was fun,” Meg said, finally letting go of their hands. “We should totally do it again.”

“Are you insane?” Dean asked.

“Well, you wouldn’t…”

A bloodcurdling scream startled Castiel. A hand covered with earth had emerged from the earth and grabbed Meg's ankle, and she was trying to shake it off to no avail. Castiel grabbed her arm to pull her, while Dean, who apparently had been suppressing the need to hit something all through the ride, just kicked the hand as hard as he could. Without even thinking about it, the three ran towards the gate and didn’t stop until they were at least two blocks away and out of breath.

“Wait!” Meg shouted. “Wait, wait, we have to go back!”

“What the hell for?!” Dean shouted.

“That asshole took my shoe.”

Only then Castiel realized Meg had swiftly removed the other shoe and had been running barefoot all that time. And for some reason, that was hilarious to him.

“I don’t see what’s funny, Clarence!” Meg growled at him, while Castiel hugged his sides and bent over himself. “Stop it!”

“So… sorry…” Castiel panted, right before another attack of hilarity overcame him.

“It is kind of funny,” Dean said, and Meg threw her remaining shoe at him. Dean dodged it, and that was apparently all it took for the both of them to start cracking up as well.

“Best night ever,” Meg determined when they collected themselves enough to speak.

“Yeah,” Dean said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I suggest we go back for your shoe in the morning,” Castiel said.

“And how the hell am I supposed to get to the apartment like this?”

“I suppose we’ll have to carry you.”

And right on cue, they started laughing again. Meg slung an arm around both their shoulder, and they half carry her, half stumbled forwards trying to walk. Castiel thought they might have looked pretty deranged, laughing like that on the street, but then again, it was really hard for him to care. It had been indeed the best night ever.


End file.
